


maybe your baby

by kate_button



Series: been crawling [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Drinking, Dumb boys being dumb, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_button/pseuds/kate_button
Summary: Steve’s brain goddamn near breaks when he answers the door.‘Holy shit.’Billy’s whole face lights up, big grin crinkling his eyes and dimpling his cheeks and he looks good, really fucking good, black button down with the top four buttons undone, jeans just the right kind of skinny, black boots. Sexy black boots. Steve’s mouth goes dry.‘Steve fucking Harrington.’ Billy says it like the way he sighs at the first drag of a cigarette on the porch after Steve’s made him come.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: been crawling [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557631
Comments: 25
Kudos: 498





	maybe your baby

Steve never liked Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving when he was a kid was always a stiff, uncomfortable thing. A couple of cousins he barely knew and liked even less, a handful of aunts and uncles who all seemed to think they were better than each other, and his parents. Steve was always far too sober and dressed far too nicely to be even remotely comfortable. It wasn’t until he got to college and found himself some friends that ended up more like family that he really started to see the appeal. 

He fucking loves it now, though. Loves planting his ass on the counter and keeping Robin’s wine glass full while her and Heather move around each other like synchronized swimmers or something. Loves being barefoot in sweats in his own house, couple shots of Baileys in his coffee. Loves that all his friends get the day off together and all of them will be in his house, probably stoned or at least a little buzzy by the end, full and flushed and happy, piled on the couch or on the floor taking turns kicking each other’s asses at Mario Kart or something. 

Thanksgiving is fucking great. Steve loves it. It’s a shit holiday celebrating a lot of shitty racism and genocide and, like, it’s garbage for sure. But he gets to see all his friends in one place and he gets to be around a bunch of people who genuinely care about each other and he gets to eat a real meal, cooked at home, in a kitchen. It’s amazing. 

He’s made himself as useful as he possibly could, chopped celery and onions while Robin and Heather got a turkey ready to cook. He’ll do the gravy, later, probably. He makes a mean gravy. Nancy shows up with rolls and a green bean casserole and Jonathan, who’s got a bottle of vodka and thing of orange juice and a pecan pie that looks homemade. He gives Nancy a kiss on the cheek and then gives one to Jonathan too for good measure. It’s fun to watch him blush. Fun to watch him not quite know how to act sometimes, given that Nancy kinda dumped Steve to be with him a couple years back. Steve was barely mad about it then and he’s really very definitely not mad about it now, but Jonathan seems to remember it at random times and get a little bashful. Steve likes him, honestly. They’ve gotten along great since that time they got Jonathan stoned enough to not be crushingly awkward and ended up laying on Steve’s bed for three hours listening to the entirety of Jonathan’s 70’s blues-rock playlist while Nancy rolled her eyes and called Barb up and went for pho and left them to _bond_. Steve’s been an eager student. Jonathan’s a fucking nerd about that shit, got a vinyl collection worth a truly insane amount of money, probably, that he’d rather die than ever sell. Sometimes he brings a record over and smokes Steve out and they just sit there and listen to it _the way it was supposed to be heard, man, next best thing to being in the room_. The record player is Robin’s. Steve’s got spotify and a decent pair of headphones. Does the trick.

By the time the turkey’s about to come out of the oven the apartment is buzzing and pleasantly loud and smells _amazing_ , and Robin’s got the window over the sink open because it’s toasty warm and Jonathan’s got some good shit Steve doesn’t recognize on the stereo in the living room and it’s _good_. 

Heather grins and snaps a dishtowel at him and leaves what’s for sure gonna be a nice welt on his thigh. ‘You’re up next, bitch,’ she says, because he’s gotta get that gravy going as soon as the bird is out. The doorbell rings and Steve pushes himself away from the counter and kisses her cheek as he passes to answer it. Robin scored. Heather’s a goddamn catch. 

Steve’s brain goddamn near breaks when he answers the door, though. 

‘Holy shit.’

Billy’s whole face lights up, big grin crinkling his eyes and dimpling his cheeks and he looks _good_ , really fucking good, black button down with the top four buttons undone, jeans just the right kind of skinny, black boots. Sexy black boots. Steve’s mouth goes dry. 

‘Steve fucking Harrington.’ Billy says it like the way he sighs at the first drag of a cigarette on the porch after Steve’s made him come. 

Steve’s staring. He’s staring because the idea of his drunken party sex friend on his front porch on Thanksgiving holding a bottle of tequila and a goddamn Corningware baking dish of homemade mac and cheese is breaking his fucking brain. 

Last time he saw Billy he was wearing a dog collar and Billy’d just got done fucking him stupid. Steve’s wearing sweatpants. He’s barefoot and he hasn’t even bothered to really look at his hair since he got up. He runs his fingers through it and licks his lips and wonders if anyone would notice if he just dragged Billy straight to his bedroom and had come for dinner instead. The thought makes his cheeks heat. 

Usually he’s a few drinks deep by the time he sees Billy. Usually he’s, like, expecting it. Usually he’s kinda planned on seeing him, spent maybe a little bit too much time picking his clothes out with the expectation that they might run into each other. He doesn’t know how to deal with this. Billy in his house. Billy in his house looking like _that_. Billy in his house looking like that while they’re both _sober_. 

Steve needs a fucking drink. 

‘You gonna invite me in?’

Steve tries to snap the fuck out of it. Billy doesn’t seem thrown at all, but that doesn’t really surprise Steve. Steve’s always gotten the impression that Billy’s exceptionally good at just fucking going with it, footing steady no matter how tippy the earth under him gets. Steve can’t relate. 

Billy raises his eyebrows, amused little grin making Steve’s ears hot. 

He pulls his shit together through sheer stubborn determination. ‘Yeah. Yeah, sorry, come in.’ 

It’s the no warning thing that’s really throwing him. It’s how he looks like he just rolled out of bed and how Billy looks so fucking _hot_. It’s why in the fuck Billy is in his house at _all_. 

Steve shuts the door behind Billy and goes to lead him down the hallway to the kitchen. He feels, like, stupid. Like he can’t get a single thought to stick. 

‘Hey,’ Billy says after a couple steps, and Steve turns, and Billy’s got a bottle of tequila in his hand but he still manages to hook two fingers into the collar of Steve’s shirt and tug him in and kiss him, quick as anything. 

It’s surprisingly effective. Steve comes out of it happy and shockingly less stupid-feeling. ‘What are you _doing_ here, Billy?’ 

‘Heather invited me,’ Billy says, eyes lingering on Steve’s mouth for a second, fingers still in his shirt. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I _live_ here.’

‘Shit,’ Billy says, and his pupils are a little bigger when he finally drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face.

‘ _Yeah_ ,’ Steve says, because yeah. He’s got, like, a bed. Like just down the hall. And there’s a lock on the bedroom door and he could take all Billy’s clothes off and lay him out and taste every fucking _inch_ of him-

‘Christ,’ Billy says, and takes his fingers out of Steve’s shirt. He taps those two fingers against Steve’s collarbone and then drops his hand. ‘This mac and cheese is getting heavy.’

‘Right,’ Steve says, shakes his head and swallows, ‘yeah, I, uh. I’ve gotta make the gravy.’

Steve makes it to the kitchen without tripping or running into anything or really embarrassing himself in any way, and he considers that a great personal victory. He feels very aware of his body with Billy at his back and doesn’t even have the soft buzz of alcohol to make him less self-conscious about it.

Heather gets very excited when she sees Billy, takes his armload of food and throws her arms around him and Steve promptly pulls the vodka from the freezer and the orange juice from the fridge and makes himself a stiff screwdriver and tucks himself right up next to Robin where she’s poking at the turkey.

‘That’s him,’ he says, and Robin frowns at him. Steve drains half his glass. ‘That’s _him_. That’s drunken party sex friend. _Billy is in our house_.’

Robin’s eyes go wide and she looks over her shoulder. ‘Holy shit.’

‘Holy _shit_ ,’ Steve says.

‘He’s hot,’ Robin says.

‘I _know_ ,’ Steve says, ‘and I look like I’ve been wearing the same clothes for three fucking days and I’m _sober_.’

Robin glances at the drink in his hand. ‘Not for long, apparently.’

Steve finishes it off. ‘Goddamn right.’

‘You gonna get his number this time or you gonna be a dipshit and let him leave like you’re really cool with just running into him at parties?’

‘I _am_ ,’ Steve says. He’s not. He spent a week after Halloween pressing his fingers into the marks Billy left on his neck and beating himself up for not asking him for his number.

Robin snorts at him, starts transferring the turkey drippings to a pot with the baster so Steve can put the gravy together. ‘You’re a fucking liar, and not a good one.’

‘I know,’ Steve sighs. He needs another drink. 

‘You know this is, like, serendipity, right. Get his fucking number.’

Steve hates that that makes him nervous, makes uncomfortable doubt spark up in his belly. ‘What if he doesn’t want to, though?’

‘Oh my god,’ Robin says, exasperated, ‘you’re an idiot.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘I know. I know you are. And you’re a fucking moron and I can’t help you.’

Steve pouts. Robin rolls her eyes, shoves the baster into his hand, and walks away. 

It’s just that maybe Steve daydreams about him a little. Like, maybe Steve finds himself not quite _looking_ for him all the time, but also there’s a constant kind of soft disappointment every time Steve goes somewhere and Billy’s not there. Like maybe he sits in class sometimes and thinks about what it would be like to go out on a date with Billy and wonders if he likes sushi and if he’d want to go to a show at one of the bars downtown or if he’d rather stay home and watch a movie or whether he’d wanna go to that arcade where you can also drink beer. Like maybe he’s started fantasizing about more than just the way that Billy seems to know exactly what Steve likes and Steve seems to know exactly what Billy likes and the way they fuck fits together like their bodies were meant for each other and like how he knows he’s being a soppy pathetic piece of shit but he can’t _help it_.

He whisks cornstarch and milk into the turkey drippings and frowns. He needs another drink. Billy’s out there probably charming the hell out of everyone Steve knows and he’s in here in his sweats thinking about _getting to know him_ and also whether Billy meant it when he said he wanted to clip a leash on Steve’s collar and lead him around by it and also about Billy riding his dick right the fuck now in his bedroom with all their friends in the living room and them having to be quiet not to give themselves away and-

And it scares the living hell out of him when someone - Billy - puts a hand on his lower back and leans his over his shoulder and bites his ear lobe. 

‘You know,’ Billy says, hands wandering down Steve’s sides and around his waist, ‘I thought this thing was gonna be barely tolerable. Imagine my surprise when _you_ open the door.’ 

‘ _Your_ surprise? I’m in my pajamas.’

Billy follows the hair down from his belly button and tucks his fingers under the band of his sweats. Steve’s heart beats a little faster, but he can’t stop whisking the goddamn gravy or it’ll get lumpy. ‘You look hot.’ He kisses Steve’s neck like it’s proof. 

‘I look like shit. _You_ look hot.’

Billy bites his neck, digs his nails into his belly. ‘ _You look hot_. Want you to drag me to your bedroom and then I wanna sit on your dick. All I could do not to get on my knees right there on your front porch, you opening the door looking like _this_.’

‘Fuck,’ Steve breathes. Billy presses a grin into his neck. ‘Look, if you’re gonna be in here make yourself useful and get me a drink, alright?’

Then Billy fucks Steve up. 

‘Yes, sir,’ he rumbles, right into Steve’s ear, and just like that Steve’s tenting his goddamn sweats and Billy’s heat is gone from his back. Okay.

Cool.

‘What are you drinking?’

‘Screwdriver,’ Steve says. He’s feeling the vodka just a little, just a little extra warmth in his limbs, a softness in his shoulders where usually there’s tension. He’s feeling Billy too, hot coal in his belly.

Billy pours him a drink and leans himself against the counter next to him and takes a sip of it before he holds it out to Steve. Steve takes it. Billy looks at him, pleased little smile on his face. Steve drinks. Billy keeps looking, not talking, smiling at him.

‘What.’ The gravy’s about ready. He adds a little more of the cornstarch mix and keeps whisking.

‘I hate Thanksgiving,’ Billy says, apropos of nothing. 

‘I used to,’ Steve says, sticks a spoon in the gravy and blows on it and tastes it. Not bad. He dunks the spoon back in because whatever and blows on it and holds it out to Billy. Billy’s smile grows just a hint and he ducks forward and sucks the spoon clean. 

‘Delicious,’ Billy says. ‘This is nice though. Everyone seems pretty great.’

Steve glances over his shoulder toward all the noise coming from the living room. He loves them all dearly, but all he can think about is how he wants to stay right here and drown in having Billy to himself until the sun comes up tomorrow, and maybe some more after that. ‘They are. I’m like. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.’ 

‘I don’t have to stay.’

‘Oh, fuck off, Billy,’ Steve says, flipping the knob and turning the burner off and putting himself right up in Billy’s space. His dick’s still kinda hard, so he slots their hips together and cages Billy in against the counter. ‘You know I want you to stay.’

‘Heather’s my roommate,’ Billy says in a bit of a rush, hands coming to Steve’s hips, ‘I didn’t know she was dating your roommate or I would have made her give you my number weeks ago.’

‘Every time I see you I wonder what you would say if I asked you to come home with me,’ Steve says, since they seem to be swapping truths.

‘Yes,’ Billy breathes, leaning in and nipping at his jaw, ‘I’d say yes.’ 

‘I’m an idiot,’ Steve says, and then he doesn’t say anything else because Billy kisses the hell out of him. 

And it’s, like, _perfect_. Billy’s hand comes up to his hair and he kisses soft and easy at first and then turns Steve’s world upside down when he gets a little aggressive with no warning, hand fisting his hair and kiss getting a little rougher, a little deeper, and Steve ruts against him and moans into his mouth and lets Billy steal all the breath out of his lungs. 

‘Steve, is that-’ Steve stops kissing Billy, but he’s not happy about it. He drops his head to Billy’s shoulder, and Billy doesn’t let go of his hair. ‘Oh,' Robin says.

‘Gravy’s done,’ Steve says. He’s really turned on. His dick is really hard. Billy’s too, Steve can feel it against his thigh. 

‘Uh,’ Robin says. Billy scratches at his scalp a little, and it sends goosebumps down his arms, a shiver down his spine. 

Steve picks his head up and looks at Billy. ‘You hungry?’

Billy licks his lips, shakes his head. Steve kisses him again, can’t help it. Doesn’t get distracted though. Doesn’t.

‘Come on,’ he says, and takes Billy’s hand off his hip and laces their fingers together.

Fuck dinner. His friends will understand.

‘Are you serious?’ Robin asks, and Steve raises his eyebrows and gives his own incredibly obvious hard on a pointed look.

‘Very serious,’ Steve says, ‘so serious. I’ll make it up to you.’

‘Dick,’ she hisses, crossing her arms over her chest, and Billy laughs a little and Steve pulls him along because whatever, honestly, it’s Thanksgiving and Billy Hargrove is in his house and there’s a _bed_ and whatever. Whatever.

Billy shoves him against the door as soon as Steve gets them to his room, shoves his hands up his shirt and kisses him breathless and then pulls it off him, tosses it aside, gets his mouth on one of Steve’s nipples and sucks until Steve’s gasping.

Steve could get off just like, Billy sucking on his tits and feeling him up through his sweats. He could, but he doesn’t want to. 

‘Hey,’ he says, gets his hand in Billy’s hair and tugs gently, ‘hey, Billy. Wait.’ 

Billy pulls back and looks at him and his lips are all pink and shiny and a little puffy and christ. God. 

Steve swallows, then shoves his sweats and his briefs down his thighs and kicks out of them and then he’s naked, and Billy’s _not_ , and it’s hot as fuck but it won’t last if Steve’s got any say. 

‘I’ve never actually seen you naked,’ Steve says, and Billy gets his hands back on Steve’s bare hips and clutches at him. 

‘Fuck.’

Steve tugs Billy’s shirt out of his pants, gets his hands on the top button. ‘Can I?’

Billy nods, then occupies himself sucking and biting an angry throbbing mark into Steve’s left collarbone while Steve fumbles with the buttons of his shirt and shoves it off his shoulders. He doesn’t let up when Steve moves on to his pants, just moves his mouth over a couple inches and makes another one. It’s hard, being coordinated enough to get Billy’s pants down while Billy’s marking him all up, but Steve manages, somehow. Eventually. 

Billy maneuvers them to the bed, and Steve goes with it, lets Billy shove him down and look him over. Billy’s got an absentminded hand on his cock and Steve’s mouth waters. Billy looks good. Looks just as good as Steve always thought he might. 

‘Where’s your lube?’ Billy asks.

Steve twists around and grabs it off the floor under the little table by his bed and tosses it to Billy. ‘You don’t have any?’

Billy climbs on the bed, straddles Steve’s thighs and dumps some lube in his palm and wraps his hand around Steve’s dick. ‘Why would I have lube?’

Steve gasps. Billy feels really fucking good. ‘You always have lube.’

‘I always have lube _at parties_ , because I always see _you_ at parties. You remember the first time? When you had to run back to the kitchen half-dressed and came back with coconut oil?’

Steve swears, digs his heels into the bed. He does remember that first time. Vividly. 

Billy jerks him off slow and loose. It’s maddening. It’s wonderful. 

‘Anyway, I was just coming to my roommate’s friendsgiving. Wasn’t expecting to find you.’

It occurs to him in that moment that Billy’s implying that the little lube packets he’s always pulling out of his pockets are for _him_. Steve. Like, specifically. It makes his dick throb in Billy’s hand. 

‘Stay the night,’ Steve blurts, and Billy looks at him, cute little lopsided grin on his perfect mouth. 

‘Alright,’ Billy says, and Steve goes warm all over. Billy lets go of his dick and squirts a little more lube in his hand and reaches around behind himself and tips forward and bites his lip, eyebrows furrowing. Steve can’t stop touching him, hands roaming up Billy’s thighs and over his hips and up his back, over his shoulders and down his arms. He follows Billy’s right arm down until he can feel the muscles of his forearm working as he fingers himself, and Billy looks him in the eye while he does it. Steve’s a little overwhelmed by him, really. Never had Billy like this, naked and in his bed and surrounded by him. It’s a lot to get his head around. He follows Billy’s arm down further, over his wrist and his hand until he reaches the place where Billy’s got two fingers in himself. Billy sucks in a breath when Steve touches him there, so Steve keeps doing it. Puts the pads of his fingers right next to Billy’s, rubs a little at where he’s stretched around them, slippery with lube. 

Billy says his name in this scraped raw kinda way and looks at him with his eyes wide and his pupils blown and fuck, Steve’s fucked. 

He’s known for a while that no one’s ever made him feel like Billy does, but it hits him in a new way like this. 

Billy ducks down and kisses him, hungry and messy and with a hint of desperation and then he’s pulling away, pushing himself up and getting up on his knees and then Billy’s sinking down on him, just like that, so fucking tight that neither of them are breathing. Billy groans a little, one hand on Steve’s chest. ‘Fuck, oh _wow_ Steve, shit,’ he says, and Steve, like, agrees. He might die. Billy’s so fucking tight and Steve can feel every little spasm of muscle and every time he relaxes a tiny bit more and sinks a little deeper and it’s fucking him _up_. He puts his hands on Billy’s waist and Billy’s breath is shaky under his palms. 

Billy lets out a big breath once he’s got his weight settled on Steve’s hips, no more of him left to take. He sits there for a minute, gives his dick a few leisurely pulls, clenches and relaxes around Steve with every stroke. 

‘God,’ Steve breathes. His dick twitches, and Billy smiles a little. 

Then Billy lets go of his dick and wipes his lube-slick hand on the sheets and takes Steve’s hands and laces their fingers together and presses them to the bed on either side of Steve’s head and _moves_ , tips his hips forward and kind of grinds against him, keeps Steve in him deep and just rocks against him, dick trapped between them, rubbing against Steve’s belly. 

Steve lets him for a while, lays back and lets Billy drive him fucking crazy until he can’t handle it anymore, until he has to move, until he’s wound so tight the only thing left to do is snap. He pulls his feet up and plants them and snaps his hips and Billy cries out, makes this noise that has Steve forgetting all about anything other than this. Billy squeezes his hands and goes still, kinda hovers over him. 

‘Come on,’ Billy gets out, and Steve’s still pinned, but Billy’s not moving. 

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s got enough leverage to fuck Billy good and deep this way, and Billy meets his thrusts, makes these punched out little noises every time Steve’s hips connect with his ass. 

Steve’s not gonna last long. Billy’s not either. They’re not being nearly as quiet as they should be and Steve doesn’t have it in him to care, not like this with Billy’s heat all around him and Billy’s weight holding him down and that look on Billy’s face like Steve’s the best he’s ever felt. 

Steve comes when Billy leans down and kisses him, and Steve coming is enough to make Billy come.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Billy says when he’s done shooting, mess of come all over Steve’s belly. He lets go of Steve’s hands, kinda collapses on top of him, puts his head on Steve’s shoulder and presses sloppy kisses there. Steve drags his nails lightly down Billy’s back because Billy likes that, always pulls a little shiver out of him, makes his dick twitch feebly even as it softens up. 

Billy pulls off a minute later, shuffles off to the side and sprawls out on his back. 

‘Well, shit,’ Billy says, and man, Steve likes him. He smiles, throws an arm over his eyes. 

‘Yeah.’

‘You think they heard us?’

‘Dunno,’ Steve says, ‘don’t think any of them figured we were skipping dinner to _study_ , though.’

Billy laughs. It makes Steve’s stomach flutter. Shit. ‘Gimme your phone.’

Steve reaches his hand out blindly, fumbles around on his nightstand until he gets his hand on it. He unlocks it with his fingerprint and hands it to Billy.

A muffled buzzing comes from the vicinity of his doorway, and then it stops. 

‘There,’ Billy says, tossing the phone back onto Steve’s chest, ‘now you’ve got no fucking excuse. I expect at least one dick pic a week.’

‘Really? Just one a week?’

‘I wasn’t done,’ Billy says, turns on his side and props himself up on his elbow and looks down at Steve, ‘but you’re right. Let’s make it two. You should probably also send me a video every time you jerk off thinking about me.’

‘What if we just fuck instead?’

‘I might be busy, Harrington. I can’t always just drop everything to come fuck a needy boy. Dirty videos.’

‘Fine,’ Steve says, ‘but I expect some reciprocity, you know.’

‘Ooh, he knows fancy words.’ Billy flicks his nipple. ‘Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take good care of you.’

It makes him go a little warm, that. ‘C’mere,’ he says, and tugs at Billy’s shoulder until Billy leans over and kisses him again. 

‘You still want me to stay?’ Billy asks when he breaks away, quiet in the space between them.

‘Yeah,’ Steve says, ‘yeah. I want you to stay.’

Billy kisses one of the marks he left on Steve’s collarbone, then the other, then his lips. ‘Okay,’ Billy says, ‘but you’re gonna have to feed me. I came here for dinner, Harrington.’

‘Oh god,’ Steve groans. The house smells amazing - he hadn’t even noticed, really, not with Billy distracting the hell out of him being all handsy and hot. He notices now though, notices how hungry he is, notices when his stomach rumbles. Billy notice too, laughs and puts his hand on it. ‘You know that means we have to get out of bed, right?’

‘And probably get dressed, too, I know. I’m not happy about it either, Harrington.’

‘You think if I text Robin she’d bring us some food?’

‘I think you probably shouldn’t push your luck, babe.’

‘Fuck.’ He groans, rolls over and pushes himself up. He snags a pair of underwear off the floor and wipes the come off his belly. ‘This is gonna be so much fun.’

‘Come on,’ Billy says, and the bed bounces a little as Billy sits up and scoots in and puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. ‘It won’t be so bad.’

There’s no getting around it. Steve’s hair is even worse than before and Billy’s wearing one of his tshirts and Steve’s got a dark red hickey peeking out of the collar of his shirt and there’s no avoiding living room, being that it’s also the dining room. Where the food is. Nancy hides a smile behind a sip of wine and Heather kind of leers at them and Robin raises her eyebrows, looking like she always does when she wants to be mad but can’t quite bring herself to. Billy looks smug as hell. Goddamn delectable. He puts his hand on Steve’s waist and presses against his back to lean around him and get at the mashed potatoes. 

Steve tucks himself into the couch next to Robin, shovels a bite of Billy’s mac and cheese into his mouth. Everyone else has mostly lost interest. Robin looks at him.

‘Well?’ she asks. ‘You still an idiot?’

The mac and cheese is delicious. Steve swallows his mouthful, washes it down with a sip of water. ‘Oh, definitely. A thousand percent.’

He glances at Billy, pouring out vodka into two plastic cups. Billy catches him at it, gives him a grin that’s all dimples. It makes Steve’s belly warm, makes him smile. He looks back at Robin.

‘I got his number, though.’

**Author's Note:**

> you know, i knew my petplay halloween fic was gonna turn into a series, but i had no idea this was what the second part was gonna look like
> 
> there will be more petplay. i promise. stay tuned for part three, and in the meantime, [find me on tumblr.](https://un-buttoned.tumblr.com/)


End file.
